


Out of Hand

by Pilfer



Series: To Force Someone's Hand [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Necromancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pilfer/pseuds/Pilfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Could otherwise be titled 'Manipulating Dorian with friendship'.</p>
<p>The Inquisitor may be dead but life hasn't ended yet for others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To play into someone's hand

The wine cellar wasn’t so bad. It was quiet most of the time, except when Dorian was being shooed out of it. His protests usually being met with Josephine’s disapproving stare and on the previous night there had been something subtly different about her expression that he had yet to determine. It looked disgustingly like pity. But that couldn’t be right, if she really pitied him she wouldn’t have forced him to walk back through the corridors past all his _fans._ Dorian just knew that she must be coveting the best wine for herself, she’s welcome to it. He didn’t have a problem. He just wanted a different wall to stare at, he was awfully tired of the sight of his own room these last few days.

If it wasn’t Josephine then it was the Bull that pried him away from his most recent vintage of choice. He knew that the first time The Bull had appeared down there it had been at the request of Josephine, later he had began sniffing him out for himself. However he seemed to be just as distracted as Dorian since their return from their most recent misadventure, he dared to feel quite confident that the man would show up sooner or later. Dorian felt quite sure that he wasn’t avoiding him, but he had stubbornly refused to share his thoughts with the mage.

Soft footfalls sounded from around the corner causing Dorian to scoot backwards a little on his chair with a practiced ease that prevented the feet from screeching against the stone. He was satisfied that he was merely one dark shadow amongst many, he hadn’t counted on the figure having brought their own light source with them however. No matter, there was no sign on the steps forbidding him from coming down here. They had no business sending him away, the Inquisitor would have let him stay. He wrinkled his nose with that thought.

“Sparkler!”

Ah, so that’s who his visitor was. Dorian quietly pushed one of the empty bottles beneath the chair with his heel, choosing to ignore the obvious clinking of the action as he greeted the dwarf. “Varric, the tavern not to your liking this evening? I’ve not seen you down here before.”

Varric granted him a knowing smile; Dorian’s indiscrete attempt to hide the evidence hadn’t gone unnoticed. He dusted off a nearby crate that was set up opposite Dorian, it sat across from another that he’d clearly been using as a table. “What’s with the fancy set up?”

Dorian’s gaze flickered from the ‘table’ arrangement that would indicate there was more than just himself having been there. “Perhaps you scared off my company,” he shrugged and eyed the other suspiciously.

“Ouch, what did I do to deserve that look?”

Dorian suddenly looked guilty. “I think it’s more what _I_ did,” he forced himself to meet the dwarf’s eyes. “Care to join me? Ah, you already have.” Dorian raised a hand to make a sweeping gesture towards their location. “There is a…. selection. Not a fine selection, but a selection non the less. Better than the swill in the tavern.”

“Actually, I was looking for you. Everyone went to the Herald’s Rest after the ceremony, going to join us?” Dorian chose not to dwell on the appropriateness of the tavern’s name at that moment. The members of the inner circle and the Inquisitor’s advisors had gathered up on the walls to say a few words and scatter the Inquisitor’s ashes over the mountain, perhaps she would make her way back to the Free Marches. The Inquisitor’s demise was still being kept quiet, hence the small number of attendees.

“Maybe another time, my company might return.” Dorian managed to keep a straight face whilst inspecting the bottom of the bottle he held. It was just simply fascinating.

“Right. Sure.”

Setting the bottle back down with a thunk Dorian folded his arms but slumped slightly in his seat. “Is that all?”

“No, I thought that… You’ve been uh, ‘keeping company’ down here because of what happened in the plains?”

Dorian’s shoulders stiffened, they were having _this_ conversation? Lovely. “I’m rather partial to wine, you might have noticed.” That said Dorian made an effort to stop slouching, an Altus does not slouch. Not even a _slightly_ drunk Altus.

“The plains business… of course that’s why I’m down here. My company in fact was the Inquisitor herself. _In fact_ … in further fact, I just sent her corpse off to fetch me more wine. Did you not pass her?” Did Varric really have to start this conversation whilst the filters between his brain and his mouth were down? Did he do this on purpose?

“Sparkler. _Stop._ ” Varric scrubbed a hand over his face. Dorian couldn’t remember seeing the rogue like this before. “Interesting trick that considering we burnt her.”

“I’m talented. Was there something specific you had to say regarding it?” Dorian said after a moment of silence in which they were both likely thinking of the same event.

“It’s just… Shit, this is awkward.”

“We could just not have this conversation.”

“No. Let’s have it.” Varric scratched at his non-existent beard. “Well, it occurred to me that my silence might have given you the wrong impression of my thoughts on that whole deal.”

“Hmm.” Dorian hadn’t particularly been paying much attention to Varric on their journey back, but now that he thought back on it the dwarf hadn’t seemed like his usual self.

“It wasn’t because of you, not really. It just reminded me of some shit I really didn’t want to think about. Don’t want to think about.” He sighed and looked up again to meet the mage’s eyes.

Dorian was starting to wonder if this was actually something that Varric needed to talk about rather than it being for Dorian’s benefit. He nodded to indicate that Varric could go on.

“You read any of my books? Well, I guess it doesn’t matter if you haven’t read it. I didn’t include this in my writing,” Varric paused, but not in the way he normally would when telling a story to give it tension.

Dorian studied him seriously, or as seriously as he could at present. “Something to do with Necromancy?”

“Well, yeah. But it was worse, way worse. What that guy did.” Varric for once appeared to be having trouble with his words.

“Enlightening.” Dorian murmured and rubbed at his eyes tiredly.

“Necromancer blood mage.”

“Ah…. Do I really need to hear this?” Dorian unsurprisingly was quite ready for this conversation to be over or to have never existed.

“I guess not.” Varric shook his head but carried on anyway. “Right up there with the worst shit ever. I can’t even compare what you did with that.”

“Then why are you?” Dorian asked, perhaps rather insensitively.

“Shit. I’m not. Just seeing someone I knew lurching about like that, it put me in mind of things I’d prefer not to think about. It was barely even a shadow of…. That. Ergh, I really shouldn’t have said anything, why am I still talking?”

“I don’t know, I could have sworn I was the one with all the wine.” He passed the bottle to Varric who immediately took a swig of it as if it were something far more common.

Varric returned the bottle and started to stand but Dorian raised a hand to stop him before he left. “I don’t understand the point of this discussion but… thanks for stopping by.”

“The point is that you’re a good man, Sparkler. As far as Magister’s go,” he said with a wink before slipping out of the door with surprising speed before Dorian could correct him on the usage of Magister.

“What was that?” Dorian arched a ‘brow at the now empty seat across from him as if it would have answers. “Oh well,” he raised a bottle that had _mysteriously_ appeared in his hand and finished off the last dregs.

Finally. Some silence. Except for the delicate pitter patter of…. Fucking clod hoppers on the stone floor. Dorian braced himself.

“Oi you! What you hiding down ‘ere for?” Sera loomed over his table with her hands on her hips.

“Holding my office hours apparently,” Dorian arranged his bottles neatly and made like he was shuffling papers on his crate desk.

“You what?” The blonde elf leant forwards over the crate, her hands planting themselves on the surface with a thud that quite upset his non-existent papers. Dorian pulled a face. Sera pulled one back.

“You read Bull’s mission thingy?” She met his gaze steadily, her eyes twinkling with mischief because _of course_ they were.

“Mission thingy?” Dorian spoke tentatively, he had no idea what she was speaking of and was trying not to examine the part of him that felt a little hurt he was finding out from Sera and not Bull.

“The mission thingy on the big kid’s table.” Sera grinned and perched on the edge of the table crate, ignoring the further one for conspiratorial purposes.

“The war table? The reports we lowly plebeians aren’t meant to be reading?” He wasn’t even surprised.

“Yeah, so what? There’s fuckin’ holes in the walls what do they expect? The bears prolly read ‘em too.” She was practically buzzing, either she was full of her own bees or was simply bursting to tell him what she had found out.

“That would explain a lot.”

“Oi, that’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about Bull’s mission!”

“Which you are planning to explain to me any second now?”

“’Course! So, listen.” Sera leaned closer, secretively despite no one else being present.

“So before her elfy-ness,” her lower lip went lopsided into a grimace and she waved her hand around expressively before plowing on. “Before all that, Bull was sending off his pen pal letters and shit yeah? And his pen pals wanna come be our pals too! Only elfy’s gone tits up and all so she can’t go meet them like they’d already planned.”

“Slow down,” Dorian paused a moment to process what she was saying. “Qunari coming here?”

“Storm Coast. Not here. Supposed to squish some Vints together.” She leaned in more somehow managing not to fall from her perch and nudged him with her elbow. “So, what do you say?”

Dorian blinked at her steadily, he was too drunk for this nonsense. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be saying?”

Sera coughed and sat up straight, raising a hand she mimed like she was twiddling an invisible moustache. “Why, Sera! Of course I would love to spend time killing Vints with you, my best friend!”

Dorian spluttered and coughed into his hand. Shifting on his seat uncomfortably he looked away from Sera only to have her grab his hand and attempt to tug him to his feet as she herself launched up onto her own. “Come on! It’ll be fun. We _are_ friends aint we?”

Dorian felt an embarrassing warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Though now that he was standing he did find himself a little unsteadier than he had expected. “Err, yes. Of course.”

“Grand! That’s settled then. Off we go.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now. I’ve already packed your things so you’d better meet me at the stables if you ever want to see your silly little moustache comb again!” That said she released her hold on him and sped off up the stairs.

*

The next morning Dorian found himself in a bedroll beneath the open sky, Sera had her back to him as she sat hunched over a small fire. He groaned and hid his face, cursing the lack of even a tent roof. He vaguely remembered sharing a horse with Sera after he had drunkenly gotten onto his own horse and then hopped right over it to land on the opposite side. Sera had found it hilarious of course but shushed him when he’d asked where everyone else was. The second horse trotted along placidly behind them as it was relegated to carrying their things.

Scowling he found the energy to throw his nearby boot at the elf’s head. Instantly she scrambled up and started grabbing for her weapon before she spied Dorian’s angry expression, which is when she promptly near fell about laughing. Clutching her stomach she hunched forwards. “Hahaha! Your face…!”

Dorian scowled more and crawled out of his bedroll, letting electricity dance around his body threateningly as he wriggled out like a grumpy electrically charged hedgehog.

“Come on. Don’t be an arse!” Sera backed off slightly and lazily ran her fingers through her tousled hair to bring it back to her usual choppy look. “There’s your stuff,” she indicated one of the nearby packs that was indeed his but appeared to be far more sloppily packed than if he himself had packed it. “Up and at ’em! Still got a ways to go yet till the Storm Coast!”

“I don’t even remember agreeing to be here,” Dorian glared and promptly curled back up on the ground with his face hidden beneath one arm.

Sera had the sense to look a little shamed, “I didn’t think you were that shit faced.”

The mage sighed, “I’m just dandy.” Uncurling he reached for his pack and pulled it towards himself. Digging around with in it he found himself becoming more and more agitated as time went on. “You packed a moustache comb but not an actual comb for my hair? As for the clothes… this appears to be my laundry.”

Sera huffed. “I was in a rush. You should have cleaned it and not left it laying about anyways.”

Dorian bristled, “you shouldn’t have been poking about in my room!”

“Hovel,” Sera corrected him with a grin and Dorian felt himself deflate slightly with the inside joke.

“Quite. Which way is Skyhold? I’m going back.”

“You what? You’re gonna leave me on my own?” She shoved a bowl of something undistinguishable at him. “Look! I made you breakfast and everythin’!” Her eyes widened as she gazed up at him, and was that her lip quivering? Maker help him. She was awful at this.

“Ergh,” Dorian uttered eloquently and sank to the ground with the bowl. Once he had eaten and was satisfied he had made himself as presentable as possible in the current situation Dorian eyed their location contemplatively.

“I suppose I can’t in good conscience leave you out here on your own.” Someone will probably come after them before too long anyway he suspected, though he would have thought Sera was aware of this possibility too.

“Aw, proper softie you are.” Sera clapped her hands and sent a shit eating grin his way. “Right, c’mon! I aint got no time to wait for you to polish your staff, chop chop let’s get moving!”

Dorian spluttered as Sera shoved him towards the horses. “Is there a deadline I don’t know about?” He gave his horse a fond pat on the neck for all the nonsense the creature was putting up with and climbed up into the saddle, he checked his pack and staff were secure before setting his gaze to land fully upon Sera. “Just how serious is this? You do realise that taking me, a Tevinter, along to meet with them is a truly terrible idea?”

“Yeah, sure. I know that…” she turned her shit eating grin on him again. “But _you_ were the one that I knew I could get out here.” Her horse came up alongside so that they were travelling side by side.

“What did you tell the gate guards anyway when we left?” Dorian hadn’t been paying much attention at the time having been taking care not to vomit over Sera. He normally tried to avoid riding a horse when he had been drinking.

Sera laughed and straightened in the saddle, “told them you was shit faced and I was gonna bury you in the snow.”

Dorian scowled, “and that worked? Of course that worked.”

“Hey! Don’t be mad, I didn’t bury ya did I?”

“No, you only kidnapped me.”

“Pfft, you could have stopped me. We’re friends aint we? This’ll be fun.”

“I hate you.”


	2. On hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really happy with this chapter but here it is. The next one will be fun.
> 
> Sera! What do your elf eyes see?(sorry)

Somehow the two of them managed to make it nearly all of the way to the Storm Coast before anyone caught them up, or _someones_ as it turned out. Dorian had noticed Sera checking behind them regularly but it was him in the end that sighted the figures first.

They had not long set off again after having packed up their small camp, Dorian had spent much time going over his decision to not just abandon Sera. Why did he have to be fond of such a nuisance? He had spotted their pursuers whilst wistfully looking back the way they had come, he was lucky that his horse hadn’t felt inclined to walk under a low hanging branch and knock him off what with his lack of attention to the path ahead. The way ahead boasted dark storm clouds all set to welcome them to the appropriately named Storm Coast, he wished it was just a little less eager to greet them.

“We have guests,” he said, drawing Sera’s attention to the figures also. She twisted in the saddle to look, grinning she turned her horse to face the group and waited expectantly. Dorian too drew his horse to a halt, putting the reigns in one hand he twisted in the saddle to try and get a better look. As unelfy as Sera was she still had better eyesight than him, “who is it?”

Sera just kept on staring at the approaching figures. “keep your eyes on ‘em,” she replied cryptically. A suspicious soft curl of her lips was what convinced him to heed her words. It wasn’t long before he spotted the silhouette cast by a man with particularly distinct horns, having identified The Iron Bull made it clearer whom the others must be. Dorian felt a twinge of unease; he had of course expected the Bull to on their tail, assuming he had figured out the reason for his and Sera’s disappearance. Scouts would have likely noted the direction they had headed in and passed on such details.

They watched in silence for a short while before Dorian with his eyes still fixed on Bull’s silhouette voiced the earlier thoughts he had kept to himself. “You were counting on them coming after us weren’t you?”

“I’m not daft. I’m not getting involved in this shite without backup.”

Dorian did turn his head then, eyeing the elf perched upon the horse adjacent to him his fingers twitched on the reigns. “What about my part in this?”

“Think you’re equal to the whole lot of them?” She said teasingly jabbing her thumb at the approaching Chargers. Finally looking at her companion her grin faltered slightly on seeing his displeased expression.

“You’ve been manipulating me since you dragged me out here,” he spoke slowly trying not to sound as hurt as he felt.

“Aw, Dorian…” Sera fidgeted in the saddle and sighed, “you’re fun, ya know? I did want you around.”

“Uh, oh.” A new but familiar voice joined the conversation. “Now you’re in for it. He’s got that look.”

Dorian twitched and clutched at the saddle to keep from toppling off, his horse danced from hoof to hoof obviously on edge due to its twitchy rider. He almost glared at the Bull as he approached upon his own stead but it wasn’t him he was annoyed with. Mostly he was annoyed with himself for having let Sera make a fool of him. Sera leapt from the saddle and threw herself in to the path of Bull’s horse whom looked as if it could send her flying with just a flick of its tail.

“Quite,” Dorian folded his arms imperiously which was only spoilt slightly by his horse continuing to dance agitatedly.

The Iron Bull chuckled before waving the Chargers off as he dismounted and approached Sera. “Give us a moment,” he called to Krem and suddenly he was serious.

The mage sighed as he placed a hand upon the horse’s neck to calm it before slipping from the saddle himself and joining the Bull and Sera on the ground. Standing he awkwardly clasped his hands behind his back, not knowing what to do with them. Preemptively he began speaking, “You realise I’m only here to babysit her.”

“Oi!” Sera jabbed him in the side. “You’re here because you’re my friend!”

“That’s not going to work any more,” Dorian gave Sera a sour look. Regretting not having shoved her off the horse, there’d be time later for him to feel bad if the blasted thing accidentally stepped on her head. He shook off the thought; no he didn’t really wish to harm her.

Bull calmly watched the two of them. “What I think is that you, Dorian, don’t even know what you’ve stepped into and Sera, you think you know but you really don’t.”

“I can read, you know,” Sera said stepping forward and stubbornly refusing to back down.

“So, you tell me. Tell me what it is you’re walking into?” Bull casually rested more of his weight onto his good leg and waited for Sera to speak.

Sera straightened and tilted her head to meet Bull’s eyes squarely. “Your pen pals are waiting for you ‘cause they didn’t get your letter saying that things had changed.”

“Of course they didn’t,” Bull scrubbed his fingers over the stubble on his chin. “Because you intercepted the letter, because…”

“Because?” Dorian prompted him to continue, curious about his unusual hesitation.

“Sera will need to explain that bit because I can’t fathom what the fuck she was thinking.”

Sera grinned, “came for the sights.” Dorian flicked a bit of static off the end of his fingers, aiming at the floor just short of her feet. Sera yelped and jumped behind the Bull.

“Leave it, we’ve got to get moving again. Looks like you two are with us. We’ll talk more on the way.” Bull nodded at the horses to indicate they remount them. However when Dorian turned he felt some resistance on his robes that drew him to a halt as the Bull pressed a light kiss to his jawline. It was done so quickly Dorian wasn’t sure if he had imagined it or not. Blinking with surprise he looked back at the Bull whom was walking away. Dorian shook his head tiredly as the Bull hoisted himself back up onto his mount, retaking his own place in the saddle Dorian affected an air of purpose as if to dare anyone to suggest he had no business being on this outing.

“If we were closer to Skyhold I’d send you back but we’re too close to the coast now,” the Bull said as he steered his horse to rejoin the idling Chargers.

The awkwardness that Dorian felt overshadowed his mild anger over the Bull presuming that he could try to send him away. He debated over falling to the back of the group not wanting to cause friction with a group that may not be welcoming to him, the decision was taken away from him when Bull indicated that he should join him where he was joking with Skinner. Urging his horse into a light trot Dorian closed the distance between them. Skinner shot him a decidedly unfriendly look as she quickly made herself scarce.

“So, I hear you were magenapped.” Bull looked faintly amused but there was something else in there.

“As if she could kidnap me,” Dorian huffed and tilted his chin.

The Bull reached across to place his hand on Dorian’s thigh. “Relax,” he left his hand there briefly before returning it to rest on the saddle.

“You should take your own advice,” Dorian said, noting the unusual tenseness that had settled upon his large shoulders that simply shrugged at him in response. Dorian frowned but dropped it, “so, what exactly did you hear?”

“Something about Sera playing a prank on some drunk Vint,” Dorian attempted not to scowl. He had done far too much of that these last few days.

“Also there’s some bets going that you’ve run off to join the Venatori,” Dorian wasn’t even going to dignify that with an answer. Bull grinned, “least you’ll have earned me some money when we return.”

Dorian snorted, “So you came to secure your investment.”

“You really don’t know what’s going on do you?”

“What was your first clue?”

“Right.” The Bull sighed and took a deep breath before continuing. “We’re meeting with a Ben-Hassrath contact. Only they’re expecting the Boss to show up. You know why that’s not happening.” Glancing back at Sera whom was smugly listening in on their conversation from nearby he spoke up louder to be sure she heard. “Now thanks to a certain rogue my letter explaining about the change of plans never reached them so… here we are.”

Dorian frowned, “so it’s serious then. This is supposed to be an alliance?”

“Yep, the Qunari and the Inquisition joining forces. I think that’s what you’d call a big deal. The Venatori have a massive red lyrium shipping operation out on the coast. Plan was to hit it together, that’s still the plan.”

"I can’t see any way this could possibly go wrong.”

“How could it when we have you and your optimism along for the ride? Seriously though, I don’t think Sera’s meddling has done any harm, this just means I’m breaking the news in person.”

“You were the first to voice wanting to keep the Inquisitor’s death quiet, I understand you wanting to tell them though. I can’t imagine Leliana is happy with that information getting out yet though?”

“Honestly, I expected my report to go missing. I’d just been expecting it to be because of Red. Heh, Sera probably stole it from her. Can’t really see her deciphering it herself.”

“So you just walked out of Skyhold with the Chargers and the advisers blessing…? No one here could officially represent the Inquisition in place of the Inquisitor.”

 "I’m just supposed to negotiate for a future meeting with whoever replaces the Inquisitor as far as they’re concerned. It was suggested I be… vague.” He didn’t sound happy.

“Hmm,” Dorian realised he hadn’t thought at all about the Inquisitor’s replacement. He couldn’t think of any likely candidates.

“They’re worried about tipping the smugglers, so no army. Just us. And now also you.”

“How could they not love me? There’s no one more suited to be here.”

“Sure. Just-“

Dorian cut him off, “you want to tell me to behave myself. Really. I’m not a child.”

“Just keep it in mind.”

“Is this why you’ve been preoccupied?”

“Something like that. I’m used to them being _over_ _there._ It’s been a while.”

Dorian somehow managed to keep quiet, knowing that any response he would give to that would be insensitive.

“Hah! See, I knew you could do it.” The Bull laughed and reached across to clap Dorian on the shoulder.

They were interrupted in that moment by Sera inching closer. “So, Bull. What are your women like?”

"The Tamassrans? Terrifying… and inspiring. They teach you everything you need to know. Give your life purpose."

“No, I mean, are they like you? Big and… phwoar.”

“Oh, shit yeah.”

“Wow”, Sera laughs and things start to come together in Dorian’s mind.

“ _That’s_ why you’re here?”

“You so sure there’s going to be women there?” Bull said with some amusement.

“Shhhh!” Sera made a zipping motion over her lips.

“You kidnapped me so you could _possibly_   see Qunari women?”

“Thought you said you weren’t magenapped?” Bull accused him whilst still having the audacity to look amused.

“That’s not even a word!”


	3. All hands on deck

The Storm Coast was as always sufficiently stormy enough on their arrival for Dorian to hate it. It must be nice to be as unimaginative as the person that had named the area; perhaps then Dorian wouldn’t feel so sick simply by looking out over the choppy water.

An elf had appeared whilst Dorian was ruminating on how much he didn’t want to be there. Far too stormy and far too _coastal,_ how could anyone stand it? Staring out at the sea he almost fancied that he could feel himself onboard a ship with the ground moving beneath his feet. The sick feeling gnawing at him did nothing for his current outlook.

“Good to see you again, Hissrad.” The elf was addressing The Iron Bull.

Dorian and Sera had found themselves shepherded to the back of the group. Certain that this had been purposeful he couldn’t really argue against it being a good idea for him to stay back though he was still feeling rather sore over Bull’s suggestion that he ‘behave’. From what he could see Bull appeared to be pleased to see this particular agent, if his exclamation of ‘Gatt!’ was anything to go by. Sera however wasn’t on the same page as Dorian and likely not even reading from the same bloody book, the blonde elf shouldered him out of the way and pushed her way through the Chargers with a no nonsense posture he hadn’t seen her use before. “Sera!” he hissed between his teeth and clutched at her arm in an attempt to pull her back, yet he found himself dragged along in the wake of the stubborn rogue. Finding himself dragged to the front he was just in time to hear the Ben-Hassrath contact asking if the Inquisitor was present.

“You see-,” the Bull was cut off as Sera stepped forward to his side.

“Here,” Sera announced herself and drew the attention of the other elf whom narrowed his eyes as he eyed her contemplatively. “That’s me, I’m the Inquisitor,” Dorian felt his whole body go rigid, just what was she playing at? From his position behind her he couldn’t see the expression on her face but knowing her she was staring Gatt down daring him to declare her a liar.

The Bull coughed to cover whatever his own response was but Gatt had turned his attention to Sera. He cast an appraising eye over her, if she wasn’t what he had been expecting he gave no sign of it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor, Hissrad’s reports say you’re doing good work.”

“Hissy who?” Sera looked up at Bull catching the look that him and Dorian had been sharing. She grinned a toothy grin that in no way reassured Dorian but the Bull seemed to see something that brought him to a decision.

“Under the Qun, we use titles, not names.” Gatt explained, he was frowning now however. “The reports had led me to believe you were Dalish.”

“Huh?” Sera answered eloquently and Gatt gestured to her face.

“Oh, the valalala-, tattoo thingies?” Sera shrugged, “ha, they’re not always on your _face_ you know?”

“I’m sure that…”

“Huh? You sayin’ I’m lying? You want to see ‘em?” She began unlacing her breeches.

Gatt’s eyes widened, “that wont be necessary.”

Sera had turned and was hooking her thumbs into her breeches as if she were about to pull them down and moon the other elf.

“That wont be necessary!” Gatt said again, his voice going more high pitched.

“Suit yourself,” Sera laced her breeches back up and turned around once again to face him. “Are you done arseing about now?” She asked of Gatt quite seriously as if she were talking to a toddler, Gatt looked rather like he was sucking on a lemon.

Bull coughed again, bringing the conversation back a step. “My title was ‘Hissrad’, because I was assigned to secret work. You can translate it as ‘keeper of illusions’ or-”

“Liar. It means liar.” Gatt interrupted him, already tetchy but seemingly pleased to be able to latch onto another topic.

“Well, you don’t have to say it like _that.”_ Bull seemed displeased.

Sera clasped her fingers more tightly behind her back and raised her chin to look down her nose at the other elf. “I look forward to working together.”

Dorian couldn’t help himself and snorted, caused Gatt to glare at him. Lovely, he hadn’t even said anything yet and he was already making friends.

“Hopefully this will help both our peoples. Tevinter is dangerous enough without the influence of this Venatori cult.”

“Yes, filthy, decadent brutes, the lot of them. I’m certain life would be much better for all of us under the Qun.” Dorian finally inserted himself into the conversation. He was behaving. Truly.

“It was for me, after the Qunari rescued me from slavery in Tevinter. I was eight. The Qun isn’t perfect, but it gave me a better life.”

“Yes, one free from all that pointless free will and independent thought. Such an improvement.”

“They’re arseholes, you’re arseholes. Suck it up.” Sera added her pearls of wisdom.

“Quite,” Dorian folded his arms. This situation was ridiculous.

“I’m not here to convert anyone. All I care about is stopping this red lyrium from reaching Minrathous.” As he spoke Gatt could clearly be seen look over the Chargers critically.

Dorian found himself glancing back and forth between the three of them as they continued the conversation. As ridiculous as this was it seemed to be working, she hardly seemed like the leader of the Inquisition but considering that the real Inquisitor had been a Dalish elf practically forced into the role with little world experience to boast of she may not have done so well herself. At least Sera seemed to be doing an excellent job at diverting him away from certain topics.

Sera looked up at Bull, “what do you think, then?”

“Don’t know. I’ve never liked covering a dreadnought run. Too many ways for crap to go wrong.” The Bull replied. _Crap hasn’t gone wrong already?_ Unbelievably Bull turned around to go take the Chargers aside and explain things to them which left himself and the false Inquisitor alone with Gatt. What was he thinking? He shot the man a desperate look as he brushed past. “Breathe,” was all that Bull had to tell him as he moved away.

_Breathe_. How helpful. He stayed behind Sera though he doubted he could restrain her in any way should she be deciding that she wished to put her foot in it. She was asking Gatt about Bull and his past now and Dorian couldn’t deny to himself that he was a little curious himself. Though it felt somewhat wrong to have moved onto that discussion once the man himself had left the conversation.

“Bull going to get shit for sharing his reports?”

“The Ben-Hassrath aren’t pleased with how forthcoming Bull has been… But he was one of their best agents.”

The conversation moved on when Sera asked what exactly they would be getting. Dorian narrowed his eyes at the back of her head.

“I doubt you want Qunari troops stomping around your stronghold-,” Gatt started.

“Huh? Why wouldn’t we?!” Dorian kicked Sera in the back of her leg remembering her interest in Qunari women. She twitched but managed to not jump which just resulted in Gatt looking at her a little strangely, though that seemed to be his default expression for her now. Dorian had expected the Ben-Hassrath contact to be better at schooling his facial expressions.

“You’d get more use out of our ships, I imagine… And the agents we’ve got spread across Thedas.”

Sera looked somewhat disappointed but nodded and the conversation moved on once more.

“I’ll tell you when we’re ready,” Sera told the elf and made to head towards the Bull.

“I await your pleasure, Inquisitor.”

Sera snorted out a laugh in response and darted across the short distance with Dorian in tow.

“It’s all right, we’ve got a mage of our own.” Krem was speaking to Bull only for Dalish to immediately pipe up in response, “I’m not a mage!”

Sera snickered, “but I am!” She posed with her bow and began spinning one of her arrows between her fingers once she had repositioned the bow on her back.

Dorian groaned now that he didn’t have to keep so quiet. It was true that the Inquisitor had been a mage.

“What? I am! I burst into flames and everything!” She needled the actual mage besides her whilst the Chargers appeared to be deciding whether it’d be appropriate or not to laugh.

“What were you thinking?” Dorian hissed at the rogue only to be interrupted by Bull whom was scratching at his ear meaningfully. Ah yes, elves and their annoyingly good hearing. He settled for glaring daggers at her but she slung her arm around him amiably.

“It’s finnnnne.” She grinned, giving him a squeeze and releasing him before he could try to pry her off for himself.

“As I was saying,” Bull interrupted and finished up instructing the Chargers whom would be splitting from them to deal with Venatori in a different position.

"Ready whenever you are, _Boss_.”

_Kaffas,_ he really was enabling this nonsense. Dorian shot the warrior an unamused look, mustering up a variety of different glares was all he could do currently.

“Ready!” Cried Sera, taking her bow back in hand. Waggling it at Dorian she made a farting noise between her lips in what Dorian could only assume was meant to be an impression of a mage casting a spell. Or more specifically Solas.

With a final cry of ‘horns up!’ they split from the Chargers, the three of them rejoined Gatt to head off in a different direction.

“You gave your Chargers the easier target,” Gatt accused the Bull.

“You think?”

“Lower and farther from the smugglers’ ship? It’s much less likely to be heavily defended.”

“Suppose we’ll do the heavy lifting, then. Just like old times.”

Gatt chuckles and Dorian looks between them thoughtfully, they appeared to be friends but it felt like there was an underlying tension in the air that hadn’t been caused by Sera’s antics or his own presence. As they headed up to higher ground following _Sera_ of all people Gatt further needled The Iron Bull and Dorian began to wander if Sera’s deception was only working so far because of Gatt’s familiarity with Bull.

“Vints up ahead!” Bull alerted them to the camp and drew Dorian out from his own thoughts. Gripping his staff as the others similarly readied themselves Dorian cast a barrier over all of them, feeling somewhat smug about it as this included Gatt.

Sera allowed Bull to overtake her lead position and drew back on her bow pulling the string taut, arrow at the ready she hopped up onto a nearby rock. The Venatori became aware of their presence as Sera let loose the arrow. It’s  trajectory sent it straight into the arse cheek of one of the mages. The other Venatori all looked towards the mage’s arse at once as he yelped and drew attention to it.

Bull roared and charged into the camp, sweeping his battleaxe through the air in an arc connecting with a number of Venatori as he arrived central in the middle of them. Stomping his foot he sent one stumbling backwards only to be instantly struck by lightning that caused his body to dance erratically before slumping over dead. Dorian moved on from electricity to his Necromantic abilities as he cast a horror spell on an enemy that was attempting to dislodge Sera from her perch. He gibbered and fell to his knees before an arrow erupted from his eye socket.

“Fucker pissed himself!” Sera shouted clearly over the noise of the fight. Springing backwards she fired off an arrow that knocked back a second attacker attempting to reach her. Satisfied that Sera was no longer in need of his help Dorian ran electricity through the last remaining enemy whom was attempting to escape with a warning, Bull separated the man’s head from his body and they moved on quickly, there were more up ahead to deal with. Keeping his staff in hand he looked about as Sera sprang to take up the lead once again.

“You must wish you were back in Tevinter, mage. No soldiers to guard you here, no slaves to wait on you.” Oh, so he was talking to him now. Delightful, he had nearly forgotten he was there. Dorian supposed he should pay more attention to Gatt in the next fight despite not being all that fond of the elf so far.

“It’s the lack of fashion that really strikes fear into my heart,” Dorian easily shot back at him with a little levity injected into it.

“You know nothing of fear,” the elf replied causing Dorian to roll his eyes.

“And do you intend to teach me?” The levity was now gone.

“No. You serve the Inquisition, and the Ben-Hassrath wish an alliance. For now, that is enough.”

“Blah blah blah,” added Sera.

Moving on they encountered more Venatori and pushed on finding no reason to loiter, that is until Sera announced that she was going to ‘pay her respects to the elfy gods’ and went to squat behind a bush. Gatt looked like he wanted to object but quickly thought better of it. Instead he took the pause as an opportunity to question Bull on his worry for his men.

“Get ready, we’re close.” Gatt said shortly after they were on the move again. Brandishing his blades he crept forwards, once again Sera attacked first alerting the Venatori to their presence. Not having a clear enough shot to perform the arrow in the arse trick again quite so soon the fight was decidedly less amusing until Dorian placed a glyph in the path of an enemy that came rushing towards him, startled and aflame the man stumbled into one of the tents, which collapsed and promptly burst into flames with him.

Dorian’s barrier faltered as a barrage of flames pounded against it angrily, gritting his teeth a horror spell encouraged the enemy mage to leave him be. His already weakened barrier fizzled out as another Venatori came to the aid of the mage and bowled him over. Dorian was rescued by none other than Gatt whom smirked at him nastily whilst sinking his blade into the attacker’s armpit. Getting back to his feet Dorian recast barriers over the lot of them and felt the necromantic energies of his death siphon knit back the flesh of his arm and other minor grazes whilst the Venatori died around him.

The fight was over and Sera began looting the camp whilst muttering ‘ding’ under her breath in what had to be her best Inquisitor impression yet.

“We’re clear, Gatt.” The Bull said as he moved towards the small signal fire where Gatt was standing.

“Right. Signalling the dreadnought.” Gatt knelt and emptied something over the fire that caused it to burn a vivid crimson and shoot off a similar coloured burst of flame into the sky above them.

“Chargers already sent theirs up. See ‘em down there?” The Bull pointed out his men at a lower vantage point where they could be seen at a similar looking camp populated by dead Venatori and another signal fire.

“I knew you gave them the easier job.” This time Bull offered a rather sheepish smile before drawing their attention to the dreadnought as it came into view. His excitement over watching it fire upon the enemy ship was short lived as they all immediately noticed the lines of mages walking along the shoreline heading towards the Charger’s position. “Crap.”

“Shite,” Sera concurred. “Look at ‘em all!”

“Yeah,” the Bull looked pained.


	4. Get your hands dirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapter titles are only tenuously relevant and soon wont make sense at all but I'm determined to stick to the theme.

“Your men need to hold that position, Bull.”

Bull turned back towards Gatt, tearing his eyes away from his men to loom over the elf. “They do that, they’re dead.”

“And if they don’t, the Venatori retake it and the dreadnought is dead.” Bull turned away and Gatt seemed to be pleading, an almost distressed look on his face. “You’d be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari! You’d be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth!”

Bull curled his upper lip up with a look of disgust, Dorian meanwhile had taken the horn with the intention of pressing it into the Bull’s hand, knowing it was important for the Bull to be the one to make this decision but also knowing that it needed to be made quickly. Gatt intercepted his limbs and suddenly there he was restraining him, a sharp twist to his forearm had Dorian crying out and dropping the horn.

“Fasta vass!” He cursed and wrapped his hand around his arm all the while glaring daggers at the elf. “What do you think you’re-”

He was cut off as the horn skittered across the ground towards him from a wild swing of Gatt’s foot as it was kicked out of Sera’s reach when she lunged for it next. Bull was the only one apparently not getting involved in this circus.

Dorian’s staff glowed purple with necrotic energy as he readied a horror spell, clutching the horn tightly he left indents in his skin as he readied himself. With another curse he dispelled the half formed spell thinking better of turning it upon someone whom was supposed to be on their side, his hesitation caused him to realise too late that he was slipping. Attempting to stabilise himself with his staff he thrust its blade down into the loose shale their scuffle had dislodged, this only loosened more of the earth causing him to slip faster. The staff blade slid forwards and brought Dorian down to his knees with a jarring impact that shot up his legs, his kneecaps certainly didn’t thank him for it. Bull had his hand out, reaching for him. Dorian slapped the horn he still clutched into his open palm rather than accept the help. Bull fumbled it and got a handful of his robes with the other hand, a tearing sound rent the air as Dorian slammed down onto his chin, his clothing torn and his mouth filling with blood from a bitten tongue the mage tumbled over the edge of the cliff leaving Bull with just a handful of fabric and the horn.

The air was forced out of him as his body collided full on with a ledge a short distance below, a sharp pain and worrying dampness bloomed from his middle and his nose crunching as he landed face down. Groaning he kept his eyes scrunched shut spitting blood from his mouth.

_This is it. I’m dying._ He thought, pessimistically worrying at the pain in his stomach fearing a grave wound. Cracking open an eyelid Dorian rolled over onto his side to find that the pain was alleviated almost completely, though he ached all over. Not even in a good way. His _face_ , his poor face. A quick examination with his hands proved himself to still be in one piece at least, though he despaired over the state of his robes and feared to even touch his nose.

Dorian’s nostrils and the back of his throat itched in memory as the familiar scent of lyrium permeated the air. Now that he wasn’t afraid of being confronted by his own innards he could assess his current location. A glance told him that the surface he was currently sprawled upon was littered with broken glass forming an almost beautiful abstract piece of art as intermingling colours spread out around him originating from the various potions splattered beneath him. He himself was the centrepiece of course. The vials he had carried had shattered on impact and were now quite useless to him unless he felt the urge to lick the floor, which he quite certainly would not do. Not even if his guts had been rebelling against the confines of his body. The pain he had previously felt was down to the jagged rock he had been laying on though it had thankfully not punched a hole through him, having made do with simply giving him plenty of bruises to remember it by. Pushing himself up onto his hands he ignored the curious tingle in his palms brought on by the lyrium and elfroot concoction he came in contact with.

Above him the sound of the horn pierced the air, a small degree of tenseness fled his body on hearing it though his shoulders still quavered as he remained prone on the ledge. Despairing further over his clothing he squirmed towards the edge through the liquid mess, remembering the hazards facing them down below. Peering down he spotted his staff caught in snarl of tangled roots jutting out from the cliff face a short distance below him. He almost wished he had landed there himself, couldn't be worse than landing on this rocky perch as he had. Though it did rather resemble the kind the Inquisitor had always been so eager to clamber up to. She would be so jealous, were she still in the position to experience such emotions.

His name was called from above and a glance upwards confirmed that his companions hadn’t abandoned him. He rather imagined that with a bit of effort it would be possible for him to clamber back up. First things first though. He needed to reach his staff. Reaching down he strained but failed to gain contact, wriggling a little closer to the edge he managed to barely graze the tip of a finger over the staff blade, idly he found himself hoping that he had at least dulled it enough today that he wasn’t about to slice his hand open in retrieving it. Knowing his luck someone would take one look at the subsequent wound and accuse him of blood magic. Grumbling under his breath he wondered why he didn’t have a suitable spell to just levitate the blasted thing up to himself. His eyesight blurred as he narrowed his focus down till the entirety of his vision was focused upon the staff, not wanting to be distracted by the steep drop or Venatori that were certainly down below.

A few stones collided with his back and head, spitting blood again he ducked his head down unable to shield himself without the use of his limbs that were currently occupied with reaching the staff and keeping himself from falling any further. Something larger knocked his head into the ledge pushing him face first into the dirt and aggravating his possibly broken nose, spluttering he shook his head dislodging the object to catch sight of one of Sera’s shoes in motion. He falls off a cliff and all his companions can do about it is throw things at him? Oh joy, he’s relying on these people.

“Venhedis! Please desist!”

“Just trying to help, you tit!”

Dorian had no idea how pelting him with shoes was supposed to be of help in this situation or any other.

Allowing his shoulder to slip off the ledge so as to give himself more reach his fingers finally closed around the staves’ grip. With his head at this angle he is able to see Bull yanking Sera back.

Before he could dwell on this a sudden intense heat assaults him as an explosion distorts the very air around him, the hot air rolls over the waves and hits the shoreline giving Dorian yet another reason to hate the Storm Coast. Whilst he wasn’t a fan of the Storm Coast’s usual weather this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind to replace it with. Dorian finds himself pressed back against the cliff face clutching his staff with no memory of having finally managed to retrieve the thing from the roots it had previously been stuck in. Perhaps he had levitated it after all. 

Scowling Dorian closed his eyes, maybe he could just rest there for a moment. He didn’t need to look to know that the dreadnought had just exploded, he had felt the lives on the ship winking out at roughly the same time. None of them had even tried jumping ship, could Qunari not swim? Most likely they knew the dreadnought would explode and saw no point in throwing themselves into the waves when the blast would catch them anyways. To not even try though? Dorian shook his head. Their deaths meant nothing to him personally but he wondered what sort of an impact this would have on the Bull. He had seen his reaction to Gatt’s pleading.

Dorian couldn’t see what was going on above him but he certainly had a good view of the Venatori mages down on the beach. Still feeling winded and sore from his fall he sucked in his breaths shakily. Remembering Bull’s earlier advice to just breathe almost made him force out the most hoarse and lonely ‘ _ha’._

Having destroyed the dreadnought the Venatori were nudging at each other and pointing in the opposite direction to which they had previously been heading. His direction. Perfect. He must be a tantalising sight stuck up here as he was. That horn must have drawn their attention to him though he couldn’t find it in himself much to complain about Bull having blown it. He may not know the Charger’s all that well but they were important to Bull and the Bull, well. He was _something_ to him.

He could presume from the mage’s behaviour and the destroyed dreadnought that the Charger’s retreat must have been successful. They’d gotten away. Well, that was another something. He supposed something good had to come out of him falling off a bloody cliff.

Wincing as he brought his arm across in front of himself in a sharp motion to cast a barrier over himself he was just in time to see it pummelled by rocks that had splintered off from the cliff face on being hit by a fireball that was meant for him. Arrows whizzed down past him in his defense but he could tell that the angle was too sharp for Sera to be of any help to him. He couldn’t attempt to reach them now, not with the mage’s attention so fixed upon him. Ice now hit the rock above his head and shattered, splattering him with the resulting cold projectiles and rending thin cuts through the flesh of one arm.

“Help would be appreciated!” Dorian shouted up to the top of the cliff not actually having any idea how they could help, short of them flinging themselves off and possibly dying in the process. At least then he could raise their corpses to help him.

This stray and highly inappropriate thought made him blink. But there _was_ a large amount of vacant bodies here wasn’t there? As he couldn’t see them Dorian closed his eyes to look at the bodies mentally, within his head he mapped out the location of all the viable corpses. Drawing a simple wisp out from the fade, and then another and another Dorian moulded them into the forms of the recently deceased. They stepped up from the corpses and his will bid them to come to his aid, he commanded them, even as he was pressing more spirits into carrying out his demands.

The purple glow of his staff seeped through his closed eyelids. He was standing now, making a target of himself as he faced towards the sea as if he were willing the water to part. A bolt hit him full on in the stomach disrupting his machinations but it was no matter, hunching forwards against the impact, the majority of the pain had been absorbed by his barrier.

The sea did not part but something stirred from its depths, several figures emerged from the depths all aglow with necrotic energy. A satisfied grin spread across Dorian’s lips as he found pleasure in a spell well cast.

The fallen Qunari strode out of the sea looking far more whole than their grisly remains had any right to. A spirit walked a Saarebas across the sand, chains swinging silently. The thing walked with more life than the Qunari mage had possessed in a long time and far more lightly than it should, dressed as it was. The spirit growled at the Venatori mages that had surely blanched at the sight of their recent victims emerging from the unquiet depths of the waking sea. The wisps had lovingly re-crafted the mangled corpses of the Qunari, the explosion that had torn them beyond all recognition may as well not have happened, all that mattered was that they were dead. They had not been in a fit condition for the spirits to replicate as they were but Dorian had still managed to make them useful and give the dead a purpose. A missing limb or two may not have troubled them overmuch but unrecognisable lumps of charred meat and bone were of no help to anyone.

The Venatori made to take a stand against the approaching Qunari, glyphs were practically flung down in a slapdash fashion. The first of the Qunari walked over them sacrificing themselves accidentally so that the rest of them could follow. It did not bother Dorian, there were plenty of fish in the sea. Or Qunari. More were stepping out of the water.

Sera screeched above him as one of the Qunari females she had so wanted to see emerged from the sea and literally exploded a moment later. “Shit…. Shit! You’ve spoilt it! Arse! Why’d you have to spoil it?!”

Dorian sank back down onto his knees, a cut across his forehead bled profusely temporarily blinding him in one eye. Breathing heavily he was taken by surprise as Sera landed down besides him, her legs bending to take the impact of her descent as could only be expected for one so fond of flinging herself around all the time.

“And you thought _I_ was gonna be causing trouble!” She said angrily as she fired off arrows with a speed that he was sure would be impressive to him if he gave much of a shit about archery.

Dorian staggered back up to his feet, only managing to not pitch himself sideways over the cliff by leaning heavily on his staff momentarily. “I’ll just let them kill me in future then, shall I?” His voice sounded a little off due to the damage to his nose whilst his bitten tongue felt thick in his mouth. Spitting yet more blood he took all his anger out on the Venatori below in the form of a large fireball. It was their fault after all.

The Venatori had attempted to make a run for it only to be slowed down enough by Sera’s arrows that the more agile of the Qunari shaped spirits managed to catch them up. The spirits fell on them amidst a downpour of arrows that tore through them all indiscriminately, a few of the spirits winked out but this made room for the fresher ones to move forward and crowd around their prey. The writhing glowing mass below them stilled as the last of the mages was torn from life, Sera however continued pelting them with arrows.

“They’re dead,” Dorian said as he released the spirits. The Qunari collectively fell as one in a rush of necrotic energy that hung heavily around the newly created corpses that littered the shoreline. The purple glow of Dorian’s staff dulled steadily as he frowned.

“That’s the point! Dead, fucking, fucks!” She shot a final arrow into the chest of one of the Venatori before swinging her bow back onto her back and rounding on him. Prodding him in the chest she stared at him with wide eyes and he released that she had been scared. “Shite!” She says apparently at a loss for words before throwing her hands up and pushing him towards the cliff face and away from the edge. “Bull’s fetching us a ladder, just…. Be less Tevinter, for fucks sake.”

“It’s more of a Nevarran practice actu-” he began only to have Sera clap her hand over his mouth. “Shut it. I like you, so just… shut it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do I avoid writing too much game dialogue? Have Dorian fall off a cliff.
> 
> As if there wouldn't be any ridiculous necromancy in this. Pfft.


	5. Heavy-handed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's been such a gap between the last chapter and this one. I hope it was worth the wait. The next one wont take so long, I've got a good chunk of it done already as it is.
> 
> Thank you everyone that's left a comment so far, they really do make me smile so much. :)

The Iron Bull had indeed managed to locate a ladder out there in the middle of nowhere; regarding the sea with distaste Dorian thought it would be more fitting to call it the edge of nowhere. He fancied he could see yet more undead stirring deep within its depths but it was merely a trick of the light as the sea churned and gave its shadows a life of their own. Never mind that he himself had been responsible for the dead Qunari taking a stroll along the beach, with his recent luck he had likely taught the sea some more tricks of its own.

Dorian didn’t even question Bull as to where he had just happened to find a ladder. There was always a ladder. Too many bloody ladders if you asked his opinion, which is always a sensible thing to do.

If you asked him.

Which you should.

Dorian at least had been too weary to even think about attempting to clamber back up to the top of the cliff under his own steam. He supposed he could have found a way down but unsurprisingly he didn’t fancy taking a turn at his own stroll along the Qunari and Venatori bedecked beach quite yet. More corpses for the scouts to dispose of, how lovely for them.

Normally Dorian fancied himself more subtle with his examinations of the Bull but he had found himself side eyeing the man as they began their journey back to Skyhold. If not side eyeing then he was outright staring. The man _had_ to be aware, on previous occasions he had yet to pass up an opportunity to flex and or poke at the prickly mage in response to what Dorian had considered to be the most fleeting of looks. Curiously Dorian found himself perturbed by the lack of response, whilst his stares had become more blatant his attention to what his other travelling companions were saying had suffered, Sera had long since given up on pestering him after she had startled him into almost setting her on fire.

Dorian had missed Gatt’s departure but felt he could safely assume their parting had not gone well. _Such_ a shame.

No glowing report on the Inquisition would fall into the collective lap of the Qun any time soon he assumed.

Maybe he did feel a little bad about that.

Purely on behalf of a companion of course.

Merely wanting the best for his closest associates obviously.

_Obviously._

Dorian’s forehead creased. He’d gone over the events in his mind multiple times as they began the journey back. Try as he could he saw no way the day’s events couldn’t have ended in disaster even had the Inquisitor herself been alive and well to take the reigns. Who’s to say he wouldn’t have still ended up falling off a cliff even?

The Bull had seemed to perk up somewhat once they had rejoined with his Chargers. They were clearly in fine spirits but were tempering themselves somewhat as the seriousness of the situation for Bull had clearly not been lost on them either.

 

*

 

On the first night of their return journey Dorian had dithered by the fire. Wanting to retire to his bedroll but unsure if he should find himself somewhere other than the tent that he and Bull usually shared more often than not nowadays whilst out on the road. Eventually the raucous noise of his companions needled at him enough that he slid through the flaps of the tent, Sera had been entertaining the Chargers for the last hour or so with anecdotes that rarely sounded plausible enough to be true. Knowing her that probably meant they were true, Varric would have been able to tell. He could hear her laughter through the tent flaps now and wondered what thoughts were going through the Bull’s mind. Far be it for him to actually tell him.

Kaffas, since when did he start worrying about the brute? Dorian’s nose wrinkled as he thought back to Bull’s treatment of him in the immediate aftermath of the Inquisitor’s death. Something had changed between them then, he wasn’t exactly sure what that something was though. It was no clearer to him now than it had been then. He had comforted Dorian when he had needed it, did he worry about him? Or was there something else behind his motivations? Should Dorian be the one to comfort Bull now? Dorian was unsure if he was reading the situation correctly, if it was even his place to try and do something about it. He wasn’t sure any attempts by him wouldn’t result in him making a fool of himself. The comments Dorian had been unable to keep from exchanging with Gatt regarding the Qun were not ones that he wished to repeat with the Bull but he feared this would be the case should he try to talk to the man about the events of the day.

Dorian huddled beneath the blankets of his bedroll, pulling the layers close as he cocooned himself within the scratchy fabric in an attempt to trap his own body heat. Chewing on the inside of his cheek his mind churned much like the sea as he told himself that he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. His eyes kept peeking out from the narrow opening in his blankets that he had allowed himself so as to watch the tent wall, looking out for a shadow that may indicate the Bull himself was turning in. It wouldn’t matter if he fell asleep, the Bull would have to ask Dorian for the blanket he had stolen. But still, he thought that he would rather watch out for the man.

Eventually the faint flicker of the flames through the fabric of the tent lulled Dorian into a doze and despite his earlier thoughts he drifted off into a deeper sleep before there was any sign of the Bull joining him.

 

*

 

The mage was awoken by the noise of the Chargers striking camp. If Bull had ever returned to the tent he had not disturbed Dorian for the blanket. Making himself ready for the day Dorian scowled, unsure if he was annoyed at Bull for not showing or that he may have inadvertently caused the man discomfort yet again in having stolen his blanket.

Emerging from the tent Dorian stood, feeling at a loss for a moment before one of the Chargers shoved a bowl of something into his hands in passing and moved along before he could even think of thanking them. His forehead creased as he realised he didn’t know this specific individuals name. Thinking back over the events of the previous day Dorian made up his mind to learn the names of them all.

A brief attempt was made to break his fast at a sedate pace more befitting of an Altus before the hustle and bustle about him spurred him into finishing his portion more quickly so he could move onto packing up his tent.

Sera however was standing over the spot where his tent had previously been, arms folded as she watched him with a raised ‘brow. Unsure what to make of her Dorian approached her cautiously.

“Before you ask. Wasn’t me.” She toed at his bag with one of her feet before Dorian rescued it and looked under the flap.

“Obviously. You probably don’t even know how to fold a handkerchief.” Dorian said as he noted that it possibly looked even more organised than if he himself had done it. He sighed, “Bull’s handiwork I presume?”

“Yep,” Sera picked at her teeth with the tip of her tongue as she continued watching him. “Ergh, stop it. Talk to him. Or don’t talk to him. Jus’ stop waiting around for him to come to you.”

Dorian wondered when Sera had gotten so dreadfully perceptive. His eyes narrowed as her eyes seemed to shine with a sudden thought that brought a grin to her face. “Some advice…” She began, still with that maddening expression.

“Don’t.”

“Some advice,” she began again. Straightening her back Sera refolded her arms and stilled her expression. “Take…” She paused, purely for dramatic effect he presumed. Had somebody been teaching her? Was she making fun of him? “Take the Bull by the horns!”

“Fasta vass, you’re hardly the first to say that. You realise Bull himself enjoys deploying that on occasion?”

“Pfft,” she blew a raspberry and relaxed her stance. “So what? Been waiting ages to use that one. Don’t care. Still bloody good advice!”

“Your wisdom has been taken into consideration.”

Sera rolled her eyes, “come on, I know you’re all gooey over him. And it’s no secret you two been greasing the nug…. Ergh, why did I have to say gooey?” She waved her hands at him in a shooing motion. “Just go talk to him later and do whatever it is that you two do!” With that said she shouldered her own bag and headed off to retrieve her horse, leaving Dorian staring at his own carefully packed bag with mild annoyance that he hadn’t even noticed the Bull dismantling the tent.

 

*

 

It was the second night and once again he had found himself alone in the tent. Yet again wrapped in Bull’s blanket alongside his own, not even sure why the Bull had left it in there again if he wasn’t going to even grace the tent with his presence. Dorian found it still smelt of him as he burrowed further down. He wasn’t surprised, pungent brute that he was. He inhaled the scent and considered leaving the tent to find the man in question, perhaps give him his blanket to force the man to admit that he was avoiding sharing the tent with him. But that would mean giving it up. Dorian sniffed at it again. It was the extra warmth of course that he would lament.

A cough startled him as a large shape darkened the tent’s entrance, head turned causing the Bull to be proceeded by one horn in order to avoid bringing the tent down over the mage.

“You’re thinking too hard,” his voice rumbled into the space. The sound of the Chargers outside now seemed to be miles away, belatedly Dorian thought that he should have stayed out there in order to make good on his decision to learn all of their names.

“Maybe you woke me,” he grumbled whilst pulling the blankets tighter about himself.

“Nah, even you don’t manage to stay all prickly whilst you sleep.” He chuckled and despite his anxieties Dorian found himself relaxing slightly with the hope that _maybe_ there wasn’t a problem after all.

“How anyone is supposed to sleep with that racket going on is beyond me,” Dorian found himself saying. Rolling over marginally Dorian tugged a corner of the Bull’s blanket out from under him. “I suppose you’re after this.”

“You’re not even stripped down for bed yet,” he leered at the mage anyway despite not even an inch of skin being visible on the extended arm. The usual inflection in the words seemed missing however and Dorian figured he was just speaking as was now habitual to him.

“It’s freezing. I swear I have sea salt in my hair, it feels hideous. The storm coast will be the death of me.” He scowled, threading his fingers through his hair as he spoke before going still. His eyes darting to the Bull’s face.

Dorian winced, wishing he could take back the poor choice of words whilst he pulled his hand away from his hair as if he could snatch them back. The Bull settled on the floor of the tent nearby, if the comment had bothered him he gave no sign of it. Dorian knew better than to draw more attention to it by apologising, instead he reluctantly left his Dorian shaped cocoon and summoned a wisp of light to hover at the roof of the tent. Sitting in front of the Bull with his legs to one side he placed his hands atop his to still them as the man went to remove his leg brace.

“Let me?” He wasn’t sure what exactly he was doing but he remembered Bull’s companionship and the bottle they had shared by the fire on the night the Inquisitor had died. The Bull had no doubt already imbibed plenty this night with the Chargers but Dorian hoped his own company would be adequate and hopefully accepted.

The Bull’s one eye studied him for a moment before apparently seeing something that caused him to give a consenting nod of his head.

Dorian had been curious enough on previous nights to watch Bull remove the brace but had made no moves to help him before. Whatever it was that the two of them had together, it wasn’t that. Except apparently for this night. He tried his best not to frown at the thing, it was more secure than he had expected even after having watched its removal in the past. One more metal clasp was left for him to pry up which would let the thing come loose, the wear of everyday use seemed to have stiffened this particular clasp. “Don’t you ever take care of this?” He grumbled even whilst trying to do something thoughtful.

“Heh, yeah. But you may have noticed my fingers aint exactly dainty.” He placed a hand on Dorian’s hip, drumming his fingers lightly in turn before sliding the hand down to grab at Dorian’s arse. Dorian chose to keep quiet and not encourage him, yet he didn’t slap the hand away. He settled for a roll of his eyes knowing that with his head tilted down the other man wouldn’t be able to see.

"Kaffas!” In his distraction he had worked the clasp free and pinched the skin of his finger between the metal. Immediately he shoved the finger in question into his mouth only to have Bull tilt his head up and look at him with a slow grin.

“Speaking of dainty fingers,” he said with a trace of amusement as he encouraged Dorian onto his lap.

Dorian squirmed, removing the finger in order to speak. “Your leg…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he took the mage’s hand up, engulfing it in his own to lay a kiss upon the palm of it before holding it up to the light of Dorian’s wisp to examine it.

Dorian scoffed but none the less he turned his head, his eyes zeroed in on the man’s tongue as he swept it along the underside of the digit, liberally applying saliva in the process with an exaggerated slowness. Grinning the Bull looked at Dorian fondly as he clasped his wrist, idly stroking his thumb over a pulse point whilst he watched the mage with something that seemed suspiciously like fondness.

“Delicate. It’s not even bleeding.”

Dorian snatched his hand back, scoffing again despite the warmth that had kindled. Bull meanwhile leant forwards, his arms braced either side of the mage in his lap as he reached to finally finish the removal of the brace himself. Feeling the solidity of the Bull’s chest against his back Dorian found it a little too much effort to concentrate on feeling bad about having failed to complete his task. At least he hadn’t rejected the gesture in the first place.

“Well. We can’t all have clumsy sausage fingers like you.” Dorian retorted as could only be expected of him.

Unexpectedly Bull went silent and stilled before neatly placing his brace down on the floor of the tent besides them, his hands hovering strangely uncharacteristically as if he was unsure whether to touch the mage upon his lap. Dorian frowned missing the quip he could practically formulate in his own head that Bull on a normal day would have come out with.

Bull eventually spoke, “you should sleep, early start and all.”  Dorian couldn’t pick out anything in particular from his tone.

Dorian’s lips went thin. “Don’t you think we should talk about it?” He quirked a brow as the Bull sighed in response, not used to the Bull giving away his frustration over a topic quite so readily with him.

“Just leave it be. Nothing to be done about it.”

Dorian twisted around trying to get a read on the Bull’s face but the man was impassive. “I’m…. I should apologise. I-”

“No. No, you don’t. Shit happened. Again.”

“But if I hadn’t of been there…”

“Dorian. Stop. It was a test, I failed. The end.”

Test? Of course. The Qun had held all the cards, they wouldn’t have left anything to chance. Trust them to make such a song and dance out of inviting the Inquisition into an alliance. It had apparently been stipulated that the Inquisition not bring a larger force than the Chargers and a small team. The cards were stacked exactly how they had intended it to be, the Chargers being sent after the ‘easier’ target had likely been predicted as well. Dorian wondered how much Gatt himself had known considering his multiple jibes at the Bull over this. Or was he giving them too much credit?

Dorian sighed and removed himself from the Bull’s lap with no small amount of reluctance. His mouth twisted unhappily as he wriggled back beneath his blanket, already missing the warmth of Bull behind him. Once again he offered up the blanket to the other man, not meeting his eyes as he instead turned to hide his face in the crook of his other arm. He near enough felt Bull’s shadow looming over him before the Bull instead lay himself down beside him and pulled the cocooned ‘vint flush against him.

“I’ve just got some things to work out. Don’t worry.” He breathed against the crest of his ear, voice a low rumble that sent a shiver through Dorian despite the topic.

“I’m not worried,” he mumbled against his arm.

“Of course you’re not,” the Bull chuckled and Dorian relaxed marginally. Deciding not to make comment on Bull not extracting the blankets to lay over the both of them. He was glad at least that the Bull’s current level of avoidance was limited to just the thickness of two blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Greasing the Nug' would be an interesting title for some fanfic I am unlikely to write.


	6. On the other hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me longer than I thought it would because I was unhappy with it. I'm still unhappy with it but I feel bad about how long it's taking so I've split the final chapter up into two so there's yet another chapter to come. 
> 
> Also it's my birthday and I really wanted to update this.

The Chargers had once again been ensconced in the Herald’s Rest shortly after their arrival back at Skyhold. Bull had of course accompanied them though he had spared Dorian a look to show that he was welcome to join them. Dorian had smiled rather limply, as limply as he feared his moustache currently was what with the lack of proper grooming their travels had left him to afford himself. Instead he had made for the baths with just a slight detour to collect the basic necessities from his room. Bull had been mothering over the Chargers more than usual for the whole ride back, whilst he had become more responsive to Dorian on the latter part of their journey he was still not his usual self, he’d found himself missing the man despite that fact that they’d shared a tent. As he washed off the dirt from the road a small part of him niggled that he should have taken up the silent invitation.

Bull had been surprisingly cagey, not that that was a surprise in itself but that Dorian could tell that something was amiss. Whilst he’d not managed to hold any particularly enlightening conversations with him regarding this Dorian didn’t need to be any sort of spy himself to recognise that the Bull had become fearful he would hurt him. His hesitant touches were so unlike the man he had somehow grown accustomed to.

Dorian had tried to go back to his previous studies in the library but Bull’s changed behaviour towards him wouldn’t leave his mind. It wasn’t his problem, was it? It was the Bull’s and he had no claim to the Bull. Not really. His research was important, he would be the first to say that. But try as he might he couldn’t focus, out in the field he had been missing this but now that he was here he could not settle. He had turned the chair to better face the window, shooting glances out of it every so often before giving up and pacing between the shelves. If his constant fidgeting was annoying any of the other library dwellers then Dorian was unaware. Snapping his latest book shut upon his fingers Dorian placed it aside without even bothering to mark the page. He hadn’t been taking in any of the words for quite some time.

None of the books in the library had proven fruitful in terms of information about Tal-Vashoth. He didn’t want to put his foot in it with Bull by confronting him on this without having a better understanding of the situation. He’d have to be an idiot to think that the recent severing of ties with the Qun weren’t to blame. It wouldn’t do to fan the flames with his ignorance on the topic. There was no one else he could think of to ask about the matter, were the Inquisitor still alive he knew that she would be concerned though he was unsure what help she would have been able to offer. The _fake_ Inquisitor however had been up to her usual mischief and nothing seemed amiss with Bull’s interactions with her or any of the other tavern patrons as far as Dorian could tell. Dorian wondered if it was just him that was finding their interactions had altered.

The debriefing that had followed their return had been one of the most awkward he’d ever had the pleasure of sitting in on. The three of them had been pulled aside immediately on their arrival back at Skyhold and been made to inform the advisors on what exactly had happened. Initially they had thought it was a joke, Cullen had seemed particularly exasperated whilst Josephine had a peculiar strained look to her features, her lips were pulled into a thin line as she listened to Sera. Leliana gave nothing away, but that was only to be expected. She was not smiling however, but that could mean nothing. It was inconceivable to them that anyone sent on behalf of the Qun could be fooled into thinking that Sera led an organisation such as the Inquisition. Sera had protested her proficiency of course with far more colourful words until the advisors had grown exasperated enough to release them from their clutches. It seemed like the Bull was the only one on task with writing them up a written report, in fact he had had it ready before they had even returned to Skyhold. Dorian supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by this, he had seen the Bull writing often enough before. Dorian doubted it was the last time they’d be called regarding the mess. There was still no mention of any possibilities of a replacement Inquisitor, without her there was a lot more back and forth of views that chased each other in circles without a voice to give the deciding decision. Dorian thought to revise his earlier impressions on her usefulness in these talks. Whether there would be any fallout from Sera’s deception was yet to be seen, the Inquisition had failed the test. Sera’s role was probably just the icing on the cake.

Dorian had his suspicions that the test had been more for Bull’s benefit, as such he found it difficult to imagine it would have gone well for the Inquisition long term had the alliance of been sealed.

*

Dorian was heading towards the Herald’s Rest in search of Bull when he heard an unexpected voice at some distance from where Cassandra could often be found, indeed the lady in question was there now. The Seeker made no attempt to hide the steady stare she had trained on the small gathering as she stood with her arms folded, though Dorian knew she would draw her sword in a flash if she felt the need to. The focus of her gaze was of course on the Bull and Sera whom were in discussion with none other than Gatt, approaching them cautiously Dorian was just in time to pass the elf as he left. Gatt had the nerve to sneer at him, Dorian just scoffed. He really didn’t have what it took to pull off a sneer, the best sneers were found in Tevinter. Everyone knew that.

The Iron Bull turned to Dorian once he was besides him, “so much for that.” It seemed to him that Bull was sounding better than the last time he had spoken to him. Sera was pulling a face at Gatt’s back, his shoulders were tense so perhaps he was aware. Or maybe he was always like that.

“I take it he’s still completely oblivious?  Even here?”

“He can stuff his obliviwhatsit. I never claimed nothin’ this time,” Sera fidgeted with one of her fingerless gloves. “His fault for not asking to see the mark. Why does no one ever ask?”

Krem now approached them and was immediately admonished by the Bull, “you’re late.”

“Sorry, Chief. Still sore from fighting off all those Vints.” He nodded to Sera and Dorian in turn.

Sera took ahold of Dorian’s arm and guided him away as Bull and Krem settled into what was obviously a scheduled training session. It looks like he wouldn’t be having that conversation with him after all.

“You can talk to him later.” Sera startled him from his thoughts as she released his arm outside the door of the tavern.

“I wasn’t looking for him.” Dorian made no attempt at bafflement over whom she was referring to.

“Course not.” She nudged him in the side with a pointed elbow in what he thought was meant to be a friendly gesture before darting off through the open tavern door before it swung shut behind one of the Vashoth that had recently joined the Inquisition.

That was a thought, Dorian wondered if he should be probing them for information that would help him. His eyes narrowed, or maybe his assumptions that they would know of such things simply for having horns would ‘cause more problems for himself.

Venhedis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much really happened in this chapter. Sorry.
> 
> I'm really busy with uni work so I'm unsure when I'll get the next chapter posted but it will definitely materialise.
> 
> As always... thanks for reading.


	7. Underhanded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a breather from uni work to finally post this. There's probably some errors I'll spot tomorrow and have to fix but for now they have escaped me.
> 
> I don't normally write this much dialogue as I have done so far in this story, so I guess... yay for breaking out of my comfort zone?

“You’re asking me for a favour?” Dorian stepped back as he noted the buzzing sounds coming from within the sealed up armour Krem was carrying. Sera’s influence was all over this, she may as well have left sticky fingerprints on the armour’s surface. It was hard to judge what end of the ‘joke’ Krem had found himself on going by his currently frazzled appearance.

Krem rolled his eyes and began to gesture with an elbow in the required direction before thinking better of any unnecessary motions.

“The battlements. Chief asked me to meet him but…” He shrugged his shoulders with as little movement as possible and looked pointedly at the armour.

“Need something passed on?” Dorian eyed him suspiciously before hastily amending his words. “Anything but _that_.”  
The armour gave an alarming buzz that seemed to near vibrate the damn thing out of Krem’s hands. “No time!” He answered and hurried off to who knows where.

Dorian sighed and headed up the stairs towards the battlements, a frown drew his ‘brows down as he noted the Bull’s silhouette outlined against the sky. He had the perfect view down over the courtyard, there was no question that he didn’t know of his and Krem’s hurried exchange. Just who exactly was having the wool pulled over their eyes? Dorian had his suspicions.

Dorian approached the Bull in silence, taking his time. Let him wait.

The world of course had other plans, a pair of guards strolled up behind the Bull cockily. A strut in the step of the one that lead the way, not something that Dorian would normally attribute to bored guards on patrol. Dorian prepared himself to ignore a sneer that he expected to come his way, better that than the spittle he had been lucky enough to receive on occasion. He couldn’t simply rip into every little slight that was cast his way, his capacity for tolerance had increased tenfold surely since his arrival in the south. If he had reacted to everyone that jeered at him he would have never even made it to Redcliffe in the first place.

Despite the recent months having whittled down at his reaction time to surprise attacks Dorian’s thoughts barely had time to register the guard drawing a dagger from its sheath, before the Bull had turned and was on the attacker in an instant. Without his staff Dorian had nothing to channel his magic through but that was no matter, they were safe in Skyhold, this would be over in a flash. Springing to action he made sure to ignite the second attacker with an expertly controlled burst of flashfire as they too entered the fray. 

Whilst one of the attackers lay on the ground incapacitated, most likely dead, Bull toppled the other over the battlements with a last exchange of words.

Dorian banished the flames from his fingertips with an elegant gesture.

“Cheers for the assist, big guy.” One of Bull’s hands clapped him on the back and he only stumbled forward one step. A new record surely. “Sorry about that, I thought I might need backup. Seems one ‘Vint got swapped out for the other though.”

Dorian frowned eyeing the wound on the Bull’s chest, he stepped over the corpse on the floor paying no mind to the fingers he crushed beneath the sole of his shoe with nary a stumble as he narrowed his eyes at the Bull. “You could have said something,” he said as he raised a hand to examine it. They both knew he wasn’t referring to the wound.

Bull’s hand gripped his wrist before he could make contact himself. “Guess I’m not even worth sending professionals for.”

“You knew assassins were here for you and you said nothing? Did you even tell Krem?”

“Little change in the guard rotation tipped me off. You or Krem go through years of Ben-Hassrath training to hide facial expressions when I wasn’t looking?”

Dorian glowered. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Dorian cut him off before he could carry on. “Sounds exactly like an excuse someone that doesn’t want to trust anyone would use.”

“I was hoping they’d make their move without you being around.”

“What? Kaffas. You think I was worried about getting caught in the middle? I knew you were behaving strangely but this? You think I don’t care about stuff like this happening to you? I’m that selfish, to you? That prissy ‘Vint you share a bed with?” Dorian wrenched his hand away from the hold Bull had upon his wrist. Glancing at the wound again Dorian’s gut clenched, “better make sure that wasn’t poisoned.” He finished with before turning to storm off.

A great clash rang out as if the Maker himself sought to grant Dorian with an accompaniment to his dramatic exit. 

“Crap!”

Krem’s vocalisation from below them was less encouraging however. Nor the angry buzzing that followed. Dorian stepped back the way he had come on instinct as a great swarm corkscrewed through the air as if piloting a drunken kite. As it made a bee line for the two figures on the battlements Dorian heard a voice that sounded suspiciously like Sera within his own head exclaim _shite_ before two large hands propelled him to the door of one of the towers that lined the wall. This one in particular was one of the towers the Inquisition hadn’t seen fit to use for anything as of yet, they could only hope that the bees weren’t intelligent enough to fly up higher and get at them via the holes in the roof.

The door slammed shut behind them and luckily for them it fit the frame well enough that the angry insects couldn’t wiggle their way in through a handy gap. Dorian wasn’t about to stay leaning against that thing though, he fancied he could still hear them buzzing. He stepped closer to the Bull before he remembered that he was supposed to be angry with him. Bees or Bullshit? _Ergh_. 

Scowling Dorian strode over the other side of the room. “You don’t know how tempted I am to accuse you of having orchestrated that mess out there.”

“Hah! I wish.” The Bull laughed before composing himself, similarly to how Dorian had seem him react to being admonished by Vivienne. Quite certain that Madame de Fer wouldn’t be found lurking around a decrepit tower Dorian kept his focus on the shamefaced Bull. 

“How bad is it? The wound.” Dorian asked against his better judgement.

“Fine. You’ve seen me hurt worse than this. You’re right about the poison though,” he conceded. “Saar-Qamek, liquid form. If I hadn’t been dosing myself with the antidote, I’d be going crazy and puking my guts up right now.”

“Charming. You’re…. impossible.” Dorian clenched his teeth.

“Listen. Kadan, I know you’re mad at me for keeping it to myself but-”

“Vishante kaffas! You’re not helping yourself one bit. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for those blighted bees.” A staccato sounded out on the door as if the insects took offense.

The Bull sighed, his shoulders rising and falling. Catching Dorian’s eyes against his will and taking them with them. Returning his gaze to the Bull’s face the mage was treated to a fond yet abashed look from the Bull. “Listen,” he repeated himself and this time Dorian simply narrowed his eyes but let the man continue.

“You’re mad and that’s fine. I’m not used to… this. Whatever this is. I don’t want you to pull any punches with me.”

“Believe me, I won’t.”

That fond look was back again. “I know. If that wasn’t the case then I wouldn’t… I would be out there. With the bees.”

“With the bees…” Dorian frowned more as he turned the Bull’s words over in his head. “So you’re saying that there is an… us.”

“So long as you don’t let me take things too far.”

“You’re scared of hurting me? That’s why…. That’s why you’ve been acting so strangely? Because you’re Tal-Vashoth? I can take care of myself you know!”

“That’s why I’m going to trust you to stop me.”

“Oh Bull… You are the most exasperating individual I have ever-”

A knock on the door opposite to the one they had entered via interrupted him, whoever it was didn’t wait for an answer before turning the handle and easing it open, despite knowing that bees weren’t capable of opening doors Dorian tensed up anyway. Josephine was a vision in yellow but she was quite clearly not a bee.

“Ah! There you are. Lord Dorian.” She smiled, “if I could please have a moment of your time there is something important we must discuss as soon as possible.” Josephine looked between the two men, “my sincerest apologies if I was interrupting anything but this is most important.” She smiled pleasantly at the Bull before looking back to Dorian.

Dorian cleared his throat and smoothed his face of any irritated expressions that may have marred it. “That is perfectly fine, should I trust that the bee apocalypse is over?” He cast a glance through the open door, the sky was clear with not a bee in sight.

“Bees?” Josephine pursed her lips in thought. “Sera was looking overly pleased with herself when I passed her on the way here.” She shrugged an elegantly ruffled shrug, “no need to worry about bees. No more so than usual. If you could meet me in the undercroft it would be much appreciated. Thank you.” She turned and left the room after receiving assurances from Dorian that he would be there post haste.

“Dorian…” The Bull stepped towards the mage, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder only to instantly be caught up by a burst of magic that pushed him backwards against the door. Forcing it back closed as he did so.

“Satisfied?” Dorian arched a ‘brow as he released the Bull whom looked an odd combination of perturbed yet oddly pleased.

By way of answer the Bull reached out for Dorian once more whom didn’t push him away this time. “So long as you carry on not pulling your punches. Yes.” Dorian leaned up and pressed a light kiss to the man’s lips before shrugging the Bull’s arms off easily as he put up no resistance to Dorian. And he was worried that he’d hurt him. Ridiculous man. Dorian rolled his eyes but shared the fond look.

“Now, I believe I am expected elsewhere.” He left the tower in a far better mood than when he entered it, tweaking Sera’s ear fondly in passing as he found her perched suspiciously upon the battlements flicking knives haphazardly at the corpse he had somehow managed to forget about. Sera merely leapt to her feet and performed the worst curtsy he had ever seen in his life all the while with the most perfect shit eating grin plastered to her face.

“I’m on to you,” glared the mage with no real heat to it. Sera blew a raspberry and backflipped off the wall. He wasn’t even worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still reading this I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for sticking with it.
> 
> The next chapter should make some things you may have been wondering a little more clearer.


End file.
